


Naming the Rain

by sevsgirl72



Category: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-02
Updated: 2008-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevsgirl72/pseuds/sevsgirl72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goren is on suspension and Eames is pissed at him for shutting her out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naming the Rain

It wasn't possible of course, to name every drop, but as the days of rain progressed to week he had to try. It was, on record, the wettest fall that New York City had seen since the early 1940's and, for some reason, the futile attempt of trying to meet every new drop put all his feelings and thoughts into perspective.

As the first week poured into the second, third and fourth, the rain began to wear away all the bad moods and instead he was beginning to feel really small.

It had been almost a month now since Bobby Goren had been suspended. A month he'd spent alone. It was such a strange experience now, the loneliness. The past year had been filled with people, so many people; his mother, brother, alleged fathers, old mentors, a nemesis, old friends and nephews. Their voices had battered against his will, each one wanted their pound of flesh from him, a cacophony of guilt and responsibility. Then suddenly there was silence. Now there was no one, they'd all met their deaths, leaving him a singular entity; just himself and the rain. Sure his cell would ring at least twice a day, but he had yet to answer it; he wasn't sure if he wanted to be near anyone again.

After all, if all of these people, the culmination of relationships that connected the plot points of his life, that anchored him to time, if all of these people could be so toxic, what if it was because of him? What if he couldn't save him from himself and he certainly could not save anyone else from the fallout.

The rain was indiscriminate, though. It didn't care. It fell all the same, generally, all over New York.

Each drop held no expectations of him, and he of course, held none for them. They weren't afraid of him like everyone had seemed to be the past year; afraid that he'd snap and hurt them or hurt himself. And the drops continued to fall not caring if they hit him, or the pavement or a car. It fell; each drop on its own kamikaze mission, driving upon the earth. Never wavering, never with fear or misapprehension, just grace as it fell towards its fated end.

After those first few days of mindless wandering and no sleep he found he didn't have the patience to sit down and read. Then the rain started. He'd been out for a walk, and happened to get caught in it. So there he was, standing in the middle of street, and suddenly he snapped out of it. He looked up, watching the drops fall and fall and fall. Suddenly he felt everything all at once, all the pain and sorrow and torment, and the rain had come to wash it away. He felt better, lighter, after that first day that he had to go out everyday. It went on like that for weeks; just him, the city and the rain.

Today he found himself outside again, just about in the middle of central park. He still hadn't bothered with a coat or umbrella, and it was still pouring, but then suddenly, it was over. The rain stopped. In similar fashion as it had started and like on the first day of rain, he was caught unexpectedly, but this time without the sudden epiphany; or so he thought.

Bobby trudged home, soaked right through and shivering. He walked with his head down, watching as the closer to home he got the pavement got drier and drier. When he did reach the steps to his place and the ground beneath him looked as if it had never seen a drop of water except for one patch right in his path, and the one patch where a pair of familiar black shoes now stood in the last remnants of the rain he'd begun to love so much.

"Bobby Goren, I swear if you ever do this to me again…" The disembodied voice started, but stopped when realizing he wasn't even moving to look up, but at least he talked.

"Eames."

"I've been pounding at your door and calling for the last hour, I thought I was going to have to break it down."

Bobby was a bit unnerved by Eames's appearance here and now. Like the sudden downpour, she was abruptly here, present, and a part of his life in a way that he'd forgotten. He wasn't all alone, he wasn't some noxious being, and she was the proof.

"Bobby, it is bad. I'm your partner, and I hope your friend, yet you shut me out again and again. I'm not going to let you this time."

Bobby listened intently to her talk about needing to let people into his life and, as he closed the door behind him, he was thankful it had finally stopped raining.


End file.
